


A Queens Valentine's

by Elle_Smith



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 09:24:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6000750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elle_Smith/pseuds/Elle_Smith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the <a href="http://gwcx2.tumblr.com/">Gundam Wing Valentine's Day Fanworks Exchange 2016</a><br/>Out of all the places to be on the night of Valentine's Day AC 205, Relena Darlian certainly didn't expect to find herself in Flushing, Queens. Then again, she didn't expect to be on her first date with Heero Yuy either. Anything goes, she supposed, but what will she do when things suddenly go wrong? Can she save Heero? More importantly: will he let her?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Queens Valentine's

**Author's Note:**

  * For [simulacraryn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/simulacraryn/gifts).



> A Queens Valentine's was written for the [Gundam Wing Valentines Week Exchange 2016](http://gwcx2.tumblr.com/), as a gift for simulacraryn, who asked to see how any of the pilots might have adjusted to veteran life, and how they would act while on a simple everyday activity, like going to the movies.
> 
> Dear Ellie,  
> Please forgive me for taking the liberty to change the requested movie-date to a dinner-date. Regardless, I hope this story remains enjoyable.  
> I wish you a happy and lovely Valentine's, full of things and people you love and enjoy.  
> Sincerely,  
> Elle
> 
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> **Disclaimer:**  
>  GUNDAM WING is a Registered Trademark of Bandai, Sunrise, Sotsu Agency & TV Asahi.  
> This work of fiction was written for non-profitable purposes.  
> Non-Gundam Wing related names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
> 
> Written and completed on February 2016 by Elle Smith.
> 
> Cover images taken from: Background – Higashi no Eden Movie II; Character – Mobile Suit Gundam Wing Art Book.
> 
> **Fic Status & Rating:**  
>  **Length:** 16,930 words  
>  **Betaed by:** Disturbed-Girl  
>  **Rating:** Rated M for adult themes and coarse language.
> 
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> **Author's Note I:**
> 
>  
> 
> Hey, look – my first honest to God 1xR story! No, really. No tricks, no Duo Maxwell popping out of nowhere... just good ol' 1xR for a change. Well, my style, anyway (which means no fluff or lovey-dovey moments, sorry).
> 
> It's not that I never wrote about Relena before, and I would like to think that I was always fair to her in my writing, but this is my first time writing about her and Heero being more than friends (or friends with benefits). I truly hope that I will do her character justice, because I think she's admirable; in some ways, I wish I could be more like her.
> 
> I've been rediscovering the fandom lately after foolishly limiting myself to only one side of it for close to two decades. I've been checking out 1xR stuff as of late and I'm really enjoying it. I never could picture a slash relationship between Heero and anyone but Duo, but I can totally see him with Relena, never had a problem with it, really (though 1x2 is still my primary passion in this fandom). Turns out (duh!), that there's a whole other side to my favorite Gundam pilot that I've never seen before, and it was right there this whole time! I don't know why it never occurred to me before, but better late than never!
> 
> I wouldn't exactly say that I'm "converting" (gosh, that sounds awful!) from 1x2 to 1xR or anything like that... I'm simply expanding my horizons. And why the hell not? There's so much more of GW to love and explore when you stop limiting yourself to one side of this fandom. 
> 
> After close to 20 years, it was getting harder and harder to find things to enjoy. Now, suddenly, there's so much new material for me to sift through! I'm so excited!  
> I won't go into the decades-old debate of 1xR versus 1x2. Sadly, this fandom is divided into two (sometimes) enemy camps – slash versus het – when we all should just learn to share our passion and love for Gundam Wing without resorting to petty arguments over ships. Trading headcanon is great (and fun!), but people should do it with respect to one another, am I right?
> 
> Well, I guess it's about as realistic a dream as peace in the Middle East, so let's not go there. All I am saying is (give 1xR a chance?) that these are all characters from the same fandom, which you love, so why succumb to fandom prejudice? Create what you enjoy, consume contents that you enjoy, just don't spoil it for anyone else. I'm sure you all agree (and if not, then I'm not looking to pick up a fight. Ignore me and move on).
> 
> In any case, whichever GW "camp" you're on, 1xR or 1x2... whatever, I hope you're having a sweet Valentine's Day and that you're loved as you should be loved.
> 
> ❤ Happy Valentine's GW lovers! ❤
> 
> Elle 
> 
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
>  
> 
> ****
> 
> ## Highly Recommended! You can find the eBook version [here](https://www.dropbox.com/s/4v1nw5m2kdcc4nt/Gundam%20Wing%20-%20A%20Queens%20Valentines%20-%20Elle%20Smith%20-%20eBook%205x8.pdf?dl=0>).

A well-manicured hand, its long fingernails brushed in soft-pink polish, twisted a mascara's top open and pulled out the wand. Dainty white fingers raised the brush towards delicate eyelashes and carefully coated them with black. Nile-blue eyes observed the mirror closely, assuring precision.

Said mirror was hanging above a luxurious dresser standing inside a lavish hotel room all glowing with prestige and golden warmth. It was a late evening hour, and a fabulous nightly view of Midtown Manhattan could be seen outside the suite's corner window. The stylish suite was located on one of the hotel's top floors, offering a unique spectacle of the magnificent Manhattan skyline.

A king-size bed stood at the center of the spacious room. A few sets of evening wear were laid on it neatly: different dresses, all young and chic – some with a more revealing cut than others. A young woman stood in a bathrobe in front of the mirror above the dresser, applying finishing touches to her fair features. Her straight long hair cascaded down her backside in a sleek waterfall of silky gold. Various makeup and beauty products were scattered on top of the dresser. Done with the mascara, the young woman reached for an elegant case of rosy-pink blush.

Her pale greenish-blue eyes scrutinized her work carefully through the mirror as she smeared the rosy shade on her cheeks. Her tense expression spoke volumes of her disdain as she eyed her face in the mirror. It was not self-criticism gleaming in her harsh blue eyes, rather consternation. Here she was, getting meticulously ready for a night on the town, when it was very much likely that her efforts will be in vain, and still she finished applying her makeup and turned to the bed to choose a dress for the evening.

As she picked up a classic black dress, holding it in front of her by the hanger while trying to decide whether or not this was the one, the young woman heaved a sigh and shook her head in dismay. Chances were that she will be stood up tonight, so why was she putting so much effort into this? All of these dresses looked good on her, however each delivered a different message. What kind of signal did she wish to send tonight? Would it even matter? Probably not, right? Or maybe... damn.

She threw the black dress back onto the bed and picked up a different one: a sassy little red dress – the complete opposite of the classic black she held a moment ago. She looked at it, dismay twisting her features. No, this was too much. She would look steaming hot in this dress, but this wasn't a "dress to kill" kind of date. At least, she didn't think it was... was it? No, no. Of course not.

Throwing the sexy red dress back onto the bed, she reached for a third one: an elegant cerulean blue mini dress with a rather conservative cut, but it was snug in all the right places. Elegant, but not chaste, with just the right amount of sex appeal – a perfect mixed-signal. Was this the one? She scrutinized it doubtfully, trying to decide.

It wasn't like Relena Darlian to be nervous, let alone about something as trivial as a _date_. She was no stranger to walking a fine line between peril and death, and a date hardly constituted as such. By the time she had reached the ripe age of 25, after walking such fine lines at the tender age of 15, very little managed to daunt her now. She'd faced predicaments far grimmer than being stood up on a lousy date, and she's been around the block with enough _blockheads_ to know that there was nothing to be nervous about, certainly not something as puerile as some _guy_. They weren't worth the trouble. She began dating seriously at 18, yet no one had ever made the cut. They simply could not compete with what she had experienced in her early teens. She had never known romantic or carnal love as a young girl, but still they all paled in comparison to what she had learned and experienced even before she became a legal adult.

Matured and seasoned very early in life, Relena has developed some pretty high standards most failed to uphold. By her sixteenth birthday, she had already seen more than most managed to see in a lifetime. It was hard living a life that had reached its peaked at mere sixteen. Whatever came afterwards was just a _long_ and _dragging_ epilogue. Nothing could ever rival that fatal year of AC 195, but Relena had no choice but to try and make the most out of the rest of her life.

Compared to the thrill of her early teenage years, she felt that she had settled for dreary normality, trying to live her life as she would have done if not for him: if not for Heero Yuy – a boy she'd met a decade ago and hasn't seen since... a boy to whom no man could ever match up. He had stolen her heart at 15, condemning her to an unfulfilling life of forever feeling like she had missed out on something exciting and unique, an opportunity that will never present itself again. She had burnt out early in life, heart and soul, and now lived her days tired and uninspired.

Much like showbiz's child-stars, and like most young people who had reached early acclaim, she was overdeveloped as a result of having been exposed to the fast-paced and complex world of wartime politics. Due to the harsh nature of that war-torn world, she had been exposed to cruelties and the darkness of the human heart at an early age. At the same time, given her role as the Princess of Sanq and her brief reign as Queen of the World, she became a universal symbol of peace, and that image has threatened to haunt her into adulthood, forcing her to constantly cope with criticism and merciless public scrutiny. She couldn't mess up as most kids could when growing up. She had to adopt a very self-assured and precocious identity early on, perhaps losing her authentic self in the process. Such a path would have been disastrous, as it was the case with many early stardom children. A meltdown would have been imminent, if not for her adoptive-mother – the only mother she has ever known – and the only person in a world rattled by the chaotic aftermath of war who still saw her as the child that she was, thankfully.

In order to ease her transition from childhood fame to a healthy adulthood, her mother urged her to take a step back from the political arena and go back to school. She took a break from being a political prodigy so she could go to college just like any other girl her age would, majoring in Political Science and International Relations. She planned on completing her Master's from the Graduate Institute of International and Development Studies in Geneva, before returning to politics. As part of her MA program, she was offered to spend her last semester in New York City, interning at the Office of the High Commissioner on Human Rights at the United Nations Headquarters – all expenses paid. Only the best of the best were handpicked for this exclusive and prestigious internship. No one ever doubted that she will be one of the lucky few to travel to NYC that year.

Which brought Relena back to her current predicament: Come Valentine's Day, the Office of the High Commissioner on Human Rights sent a representative to attend a charity event held for the holiday: the Annual Bachelor/Bachelorette Date Auction Benefiting the War Child Organization for Children Affected by War. Each year, a couple of NYC public bodies would nominate a total of 25 of their finest bachelors and bachelorettes to be auctioned live for dates on Valentine's. This year, the auction's theme was "law enforcement", presenting the NYPD's and the Preventer Organization NYC Field Office's best eligible bachelors and bachelorettes. Relena drew the short straw amongst her fellow interns, and was chosen to attend the event on behalf of the High Commissioner.

It was a cocktail-attire party held at a respectable Midtown Manhattan nightclub with a stunning city and East River view. Her entrance fees were covered by the office, as were her bids, so all she had to do was enjoy the evening and mingle a little, enduring her social duty until it was over. She had very little interest in the date-auction itself, but her superior did instruct her to make a handsome bid as to not to shame the Office of the High Commissioner. That didn't turn out to be a problem once the auctioned bachelors were called onto the stage.

Dressed in a strapless black cocktail dress, her hair gathered into a lovely up-do and her feet aching inside a new pair of high heels, Relena was standing somewhat at the back of the crowd when the auction began. One by one the handsome bachelors came up onto the stage: strapping law enforcement officers of all ages, childishly goofing and showing off to the cheers of their mostly-female crowd. It was all done in good humor and spirits, even earning a few laughs from Relena. Then, another candidate was called on stage, and her face drained of all color. She fell abruptly silent, choking on a chuckle as she gaped at the stage in disbelief.

The stiff young man walking briskly across the stage to take his place towards the end of the row of grinning bachelors, was no other than her old flame – Heero Yuy.

Staggered, she watched him take his place on stage, scowling darkly at the crowd. Her wide blue eyes studied him in stunned-silence, looking him up and down carefully. It was the first time she had laid eyes on him in close to ten years. Last she had seen him, he was but a boy. Now, however, she was gazing upon a fetching young man. Heero had grown much taller over the years, and his features were thinner, more prominent now that he had matured into his mid-twenties. Though, his hair was more or less the same; an unruly boyish hairdo that fell enticingly over his forehead as if to hide him from prying eyes. His dark good looks were a tantalizing combination of boy and man. Relena couldn't help but ogle.

Now in his twenties, Heero seemed more intense if possible, even when compared to his teenage years as a young colony-militia soldier. Dressed in an elegant black tuxedo, his was still a deadly kind of appeal: dark, brooding and lethal – a true manifestation of the phrase "if looks could kill". Looking at him now, as a woman, Relena suddenly felt like a swooning young girl again. A strange warm weakness flooded her whole body; the kind of light-headedness she hasn't felt since she had last been in his powerful presence. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest. Heat flushed her cheeks and her flesh burned as though enflamed. She remembered this incredible feeling: the overwhelming sensation of mixed excitement and fear, the same head-spinning feel that had once sizzled inside of her whenever she was in his electrifying presence... like that time they sat close together when Heero came for her on Libra.

It was right after an explosion had rocked the massive space station. The lights went out and red emergency lighting flooded the halls with eerie dimness. Heero protected her from fallen derbies, injuring himself in the process. He got up like nothing had happened and took a seat on some crate, waiting for the right time to destroy the station. She didn't see the point in waiting, but he had instructed her to stay by his side, his harsh tone and ruthless glare so firm that she had no choice but to oblige. He was irresistible that way.

She had hesitated, but eventually sat next to him on the small crate, merely inches apart; their thighs nearly touching. She could feel his heat, his firmness, and her head spun a little. She inched a bit closer, just a tad, pretending that she was adjusting her sitting position on the narrow crate. He didn't move, remaining as solid as a rock. She placed her hand between them gently, leaving it there just in case... in case of anything, really. She was a young girl in love (although for all she knew back then, it could have just been a teenage crush), and as such she had hoped... wished... fantasized... about how he might reach for her hand and hold it, if only for a moment. But Heero never did. His hands remained crossed tensely over his chest, his unwavering gaze set forward and his mind oriented solely on the mission ahead of him.

But there was tenderness in him too; a kindness only she was allowed to see. She had seen it a while later, after they left Libra to go fetch Heero's Gundam. He was prepared to head out to what he had considered to be his final battle, but she had urged him not to fight, not to die. Her words must have touched something in him, because suddenly his features had softened and his eyes shone so bright she thought she could see the stars in them. He had leaned close to her then, their faces close to touching, and whispered to her, softly: _"Believe in me"_. And she did, always have, but it was still hard to let him go when she knew he might never return.

Seeing her reluctance, Heero had pleaded with her to let him fight, and his lips curled up slightly to form a tragic smile. He was willing to die for her, she had realized then; not for the cause, but for _her_. He was willing to sacrifice himself in order to make her dream of peace come true. And not only had he done just that, but he had also done it without dying, without forcing her to mourn him in the aftermath of the battle.

And yet in the end, when it was all over a year later, she _did_ lose him, because he was gone. She hadn't seen him since the night he had ended the Mariemeia Uprising back in AC 196. She didn't know why; he had left without saying goodbye. One moment she was stepping out of his hospital room to use the bathroom while he was still unconscious after surgery, and the next thing she knew she was stepping back into an empty room – his bed vacant, the sheets tangled and the curtains billowing wildly against an open window.

Just like that, Heero Yuy made a silent departure from her life, leaving her to forever wonder whether her strong feelings for him were truly a young girl's first crush, or the love of a lifetime that was never meant to happen. And now, suddenly, there he was, right here, in New York City. Once again, their lives collided unexpectedly.

Relena had to take a moment to wrap her head around it. She had been living in New York City for almost a whole semester, and now she suddenly finds out that Heero has been there that _whole time_? Granted, NYC wasn't called the "Big Apple" for nothing. Over 1.5 million lived in Manhattan alone. The chances of running into someone you know were slim to say the least. Still, she found it mind boggling that Heero has been so close while she had no idea. He was probably working for Preventer (she doubted he was NYPD), which meant that he's been a short subway ride away from her workplace this entire semester. What were the odds that out of all the places on Earth and Space, he'd be here, tonight, ready for the taking in this ridiculous auction?

That had to be some sort of sign, right?

She smirked to herself, suddenly brimming with confidence. Drawing her shoulders back, she straightened to her full height and set her eyes on the stage, focusing her leering gaze on Heero.

He didn't seem to notice her, for she was standing way in the back, and kept his eyes pointed towards a vague point somewhere above the crowd, looking completely uninterested. Unlike his fellow auction-candidates, who were all winking suggestively at the women in the crowd, treating the whole thing like a joke, Heero's face was set into a cold hard glare; his dangerous Prussian blue eyes scowling at the crowd in blatant disdain. His fierce gaze was far deadlier than she remembered, perhaps because he had grown and so did the darkness in him. Such malicious disregard seemed very out of place on that stage. Heero looked like someone who really didn't want to be there, but that didn't stop the women from catcalling him, whistling and hollering things like: _"show us a smile, gorgeous!"_

Relena had to stifle a snicker, almost choking on it as she raised her fist to cover her mouth. They had _no_ idea...

The bidding began. She didn't make a move until it was Heero's turn, sometime towards the end of the auction. When he was finally up for grabs, she got ready to make her move. The auctioneer introduced Heero to the crowd, pitching him as a _"bad boy"_ and _"young rebel"_ in the Preventer NYC ranks, telling everyone that _"this_ _young troublemaker didn't want to be here tonight, but since he had been **very naughty** and disobeyed orders, his boss left him no other choice!"_

The crowd laughed and Heero looked ready to snap the ringman's neck. His eyes glowered angrily at the small mob; he was fuming, but he just swallowed his anger quietly. Relena gawked at his tense fists, both clenched at his sides, feeling baffled. Heero – a _bad boy_ and a _rebel_? Since when? And since when does he get in trouble for disobeying orders? Or was this just some kind of farfetched selling-pitch to justify that deadly scowl on his handsome face? Perhaps this was some kind of undercover mission? Maybe? No? That's silly, right? But it wouldn't make much sense otherwise. She was fairly certain Heero wasn't here because he had volunteered to be. Maybe he had lost a draw like she had? Wouldn't that be something? She smiled to herself.

Bidding started at $250. Two women raised their hands first – one young, one middle-aged – and placed two competing bids. Heero glowered at them scornfully. Then, Relena raised her hand to double the highest offer – and Heero's head snapped sharply in her direction.

Their gazes met through the crowd. Heero's eyes widened, briefly surprised, and then narrowed warily, frowning at her.

Everything else disappeared for a moment. She could feel those intense blues burning through her dress, scorching her skin as they scrutinized her in cautious incredulity. Feeling self-conscious under his penetrating gaze, she tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, bowing her head down slightly to avoid his punitive blue eyes, and glanced down at herself. Was it her seductively bare shoulders? Was she showing too much leg? Too much cleavage? Last he had seen her she was a chaste young girl whose only passion was her ideals. Now, however, she was a young woman, and she showed it proudly; not that she was by any means promiscuous, but she was no longer that clueless and idealistic sixteen-year-old, that much was certain.

Slowly, she looked back up at the stage, searching for his face. He was still watching her like a hawk. She tried to offer him a small smile of greeting, but it faltered. Her heart hammered strongly in her chest, not driven by anticipation, but by disgrace. He didn't seem happy to see her, and pinned under his harsh gaze, Relena just wanted to disappear.

The bidding continued. Heero didn't tear his eyes off of her for a second, even as others placed competing bids against hers. Each time she raised her hand to top a higher bidder with her own offer, he frowned, forehead creasing. She wondered why he was so puzzled by her persistent attempts to win him. Clearly, he should have expected her to seize this opportunity to meet with him again after so many years. Was he afraid that she'd actually _win_ the auction? Was he _that_ reluctant to see her again? Why?

Seeing that he refused to tear his eyes off of her, some women began throwing suggestive remarks at Heero, hooting at him and giving him wert-whirl whistles. Heero ignored them, keeping his eyes solely on Relena.

The auction chat continued. Then, when some older lady made a substantial bid on him, Heero actually seemed a bit alarmed. The frown vanished from his face and his blue eyes seemed to be urging her to top the old woman's bid. She had paused, putting on a mock-thoughtful expression to show him that she was considering it, and he had scowled at her reproachfully. She kept taunting him as the auctioneer began calling _"Going once! Going twice!"_ , until he broke, rolling his eyes and then nodding at her as if to say _"fine, you win"_. She had smirked at him and quickly raised her hand to top the latest bid before the ringman could finish saying _"Sold!"_.

She had won, bidding almost $2500 on behalf of the Office of the High Commissioner on Human Rights. Heero had glared at her wrathfully for toying with him, but she just smiled at him smugly and shrugged her delicate shoulders, enjoying herself.

The auction continued – there were still two bachelors left – but Heero was asked to leave the stage as the others before him had done. He almost seemed relieved when the auctioneer told him he could be excused. She followed him with her eyes as he marched briskly across the stage and stepped quickly down the stairs, clearly in a rush to get away from that awkward position. She couldn't blame him; she wouldn't have enjoyed it either, being presented like a piece of deli meat.

Heero began making his way towards her through the crowd. She did the same, stepping aside and away from the center of the room so she could meet him halfway and with less people around. Waiters were moving through the crowd with trays of champagne flutes. She was surprised to see Heero stop one and grab a pair of champagne glasses. She smiled to herself, finding it rather romantic. It was certainly something new and not what she would have expected of him ten years ago. He must have learned a few tricks over the years, as she had. When she saw him take a quick gulp out of one of the glasses while walking towards her, she smiled again, amused and somewhat touched. Perhaps she wasn't the only one feeling nervous about meeting face to face after all this time.

He was halfway through his champagne flute by the time they met, standing a few feet away from the horde of people filling the floor. For a moment, neither moved. They appraised each other mutely, eyes moving up and down before meeting again, freezing as their gazes locked. He was taller than her now, by a half-dozen inches or so; she had to look up a little when meeting his eyes. Up close, she noted that while his shoulders had broadened, his figure was still rather slim, leaning towards lanky. His clean-shaven features were sharp and angular: high cheekbones, a thin turned-up shaped nose, fierce blue eyes and strong angled eyebrows all merging into a perfectly sculpted face striking in its intensity. As a man, he was even more gorgeous than he has ever been as a boy. Relena could hear her own breath loudly in her ears and she prayed that she wasn't actually panting so heavily. Then, he spoke, and her knees nearly gave way:

_"Thank you,"_ he had said in that husky low monotone of his, handing her the untouched champagne flute. She had reached to accept it, smiling humbly, but then it had dawned on her why Heero was thanking her. He thought she was only doing an old friend a favor – bailing him out of this ridiculous situation. He probably hoped that she won't hold him up to that date. He was going to disappear again, just like before!

Something inside of her had snapped. She had never been as resolute not to let him go as she had been at that very moment. She told him, quite firmly, that she expected him to hold his end of the bargain. Drawing strength from every authoritative cell she had in her body, she spoke the words harshly to his face, letting him know that she will be waiting for him at her hotel on eight O'clock sharp, Valentine's Day, and that if he was any kind of a man, he would be there to fulfill his obligation, because he owed her at least that much, even if it was just a proper goodbye!

Heero seemed a bit taken aback by her unexpected harshness. She was surprised herself, never having realized that she had carried such resentment towards him for all these years, angry with him for leaving that Brussels hospital without a goodbye. Seeing his surprise, even relishing in it a little, she decided not to leave him enough time to react. She didn't want to hear his answer, not yet.

So, after saying her piece, Relena had shoved the champagne back into his open hand, spun around abruptly on her heels and stomped out of the nightclub, never looking back. In her mind, she imagined him standing there like an abandoned puppy, looking devilishly handsome in his tuxedo as he held two champagne flutes in his hands, gaping in shock at her retreating figure while trying to wrap his socially-inapt head around what had just happened.

That was two weeks ago. Tonight, she will finally find out his answer.

Done dressing, Relena glanced down at the elegant silver watch around her delicate wrist. It was five past eight. Heero was supposed to be here five minutes ago. Either he wasn't coming, or he was late. But since when is Heero late for anything? At least, the Heero she knew ten years ago was never late. He had never failed to arrive on time, not when she needed him. Was tonight going to be a first?

Refusing to believe that he will let her down, Relena decided to give Heero the benefit of the doubt, assuming he might be waiting for her down in the lobby, probably frowning angrily at her own delay as he checked his watch and saw that she was five minutes late. She quickly grabbed her purse and coat, before leaving her suite and heading towards the elevator. She hoped to find him waiting once she reached the lobby.

The Grand Hyatt was a luxury Manhattan hotel within a short walking distance from the United Nations Headquarters. A longtime legend on the New York scene, the sophisticated Manhattan hotel was soaked in an artful and elegant atmosphere of both business and leisure. Its grand and striking lobby, with its modern and sleek design, illuminated waterfalls, seating areas, restaurants and lounges, was always busy with people coming and going. Observing the bustling lobby, Relena looked left and right, searching for a familiar face, but found none.

She checked her wristwatch again, her face twisting in disappointment. It was 20:15 and no sign of Heero. He wasn't coming. Hell, he must have fled the city by now, getting as far away from her as he possibly could... disappearing without a trace once again.

She could understand running from your past, from things that tied you down and reminded you of your darkest, most solemn hours. She had devoted years of her life trying to break free from who she once was, struggling to plow her way through this messy world on her own, while constantly being haunted by an image of a girl she no longer felt was a part of her. Much like Heero, she imagined, she had no choice but to jettison people out of her life, especially those who were constantly bringing her down; she threw such individuals overboard in a heartbeat, refusing to be sunk to the bottom by them.

She imagined Heero felt the same way, or at least something akin to what she felt, but she had hoped that he considered her to be more than just excess weight. She liked to think that she used to mean something to him, but apparently she never did. If she had, he wouldn't have jettisoned her so quickly to lighten his load, and he would have showed up tonight. Clearly, he considered her a threat to his stability, to what kept him afloat. She understood, really she did, but it still hurt.

It must have been hard for him, building a life from scratch, coping with trauma and conscience all on his own. Surely, he must have succeeded to some degree. He had probably built a life here, working for Preventer. Maybe he even got comfortable, and then suddenly she appeared like a bolt out of the blue. Could he have really run off? He wasn't the type to do such a despicable thing. Or perhaps he was hoping that if he stood her up tonight she would get the hint and leave him alone from now on? What other choice did she have? She was no longer that rash girl who had followed him to the ends of the Earth. If he wanted to be left alone, she would respect that. Although, she wished he could have given her the courtesy of only one lousy night. There was so much she had wanted to say, thinking about this date every day for the past two weeks, planning what to say, what to ask and how to phrase all of it so he wouldn't bolt...

Relena heaved a disillusioned sigh, shaking her head. Oh well. Great expectations equaled great disappointment, and Heero was definitely the stuff of greatness, so he naturally fell under the definition. She had no choice but to call it an early night, but not before she stopped by the hotel bar for a drink. She really needed a drink. And who knew? Perhaps she'll catch someone's eye at the bar and he won't turn up to be a total disappointment. The night was still young and anything could happen.

Musing on how she should take comfort in the fact that, in the end, the last words she ever heard Heero speak to her were now a soft _"thank you"_ , and not just a heavily slurred _"I will never kill again..."_ , Relena smiled wistfully to herself as she headed towards the Hyatt's bar further down the lobby.

A few couples were sitting by the counter for a drink before heading out on their romantic Valentine's dates, but there were a few bachelors as well, leaning miserably over their drinks. She found only one vacant seat, next to one of these lonely men, but it was currently occupied by a small bouquet of red roses. Noting the weary and hunched backside of the man sitting next to it, curled over his drink with his head bowed down low and clearly dressed for a night out, Relena winced in sympathy. _Looks like I'm not the only one who was stood up tonight_ , she figured; _Misery loves company, right?_

She approached the barstool next to the man. Gesturing at the flowers, she asked: "Do you mind?"

The young man straightened up quickly, clearing his throat. "Sure," he coughed the word out hoarsely, turning to take the bouquet off the barstool. Relena gaped at him, stunned.

" _Heero?!_ " She let out in disbelief. She didn't even recognize him, seated slouched and hunched over the bar, looking beaten and completely deflated like that.

Heero also seemed surprised to see her, like he had just been caught with his hand inside the cookie jar. She used this pause to assess him quickly, and noticed him doing the same, his gaze lingering on her lush curves a bit too long to be innocent. He was wearing a pair of indigo raw denim pants, along with an untucked white dress shirt and a plain black leather jacket. His hair was in its usual state of disarray, falling over his eyes in an unruly heap. His face was unshaven, but the faint five O'clock shadow was attractive. Combined with his messy hair, it made for a sexy rugged look. Granted, such a raggedy look was not something she tended to associate with Heero (the guy used to tuck his tank top into his jeans, for crying out loud!), but the ruggedness was a nice, refreshing, touch, for it reminded her that he was no longer a boy.

No, indeed he wasn't, she observed sadly, running her eyes over him one last time. It broke her heart a little to see him like this, sitting alone by a bar, holding a nearly empty glass of whiskey on the rocks. Heero used to be perfect; beautiful and pure. When she had first met him he was completely untainted, having been raised by Dr. J in a sterile environment – away from humanity and its _filth_. Now, he seemed soiled somehow, _infected_ by humanity... eroded by the same flaws all men shared. It hurt her to see him like this; human, just like the rest of the flawed people around him.

"Uh," Heero let out as he reached a hand up to check his watched. "Shit," he mumbled when he noted the time, realizing he was late. He placed his whiskey glass back on the bar and stood up, swiping the roses off the stool next to him.

"Sorry," he grunted and shoved the roses towards her unceremoniously. "Lost track of time."

She looked down at the shabby flowers, stunned and outraged. How dare he just _shove_ these in her face and— She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a second before she released it slowly, trying to be patient. This was Heero, after all. She had to be patient.

"If you didn't want to come, you should have just stayed away, Heero," she grumbled irately as she accepted the rotting flowers; "I would have gotten the message loud and clear," she added, eyeing the sorry-excuse for roses she was holding in her hands, "No need to _shame_ me with these..." she glanced at the wilting roses in dismay, " _flowers_."

"It was mandatory," Heero muttered drably, "Part of the package," he explained irately, "Those were the only ones left."

"What did you expect, on _Valentine's_?" She snapped at him and then forced herself to calm down again. "You get what you pay for, I guess..." she heaved the words out with a frustrated sigh, still looking at the miserable-looking flowers. Before she looked up at him again, she had to decide – was she going to regret this evening, or was she going to regret giving up on this evening? Which will it be?

She chose the former. She was not passing on this opportunity no matter what. She had this. No problem. She will _not_ let him get under her skin, not tonight; not when it was probably the only night she'll ever get.

Raising her head to meet Heero's face again, she offered a small smile; a truce. "I'm sure they were lovely... once," she joked, smiling softly, hoping to put the awkwardness behind them and start anew. "Thank you."

"Welcome," Heero murmured almost automatically, frowning at her. She was confusing him. Good.

They stood there a moment, avoiding eye contact. When she saw him glimpse at his neglected drink again, she spoke up:

"So," she opened lightly, "Where are you taking me?"

"Bouley's," Heero let out dryly, his eyes still on the drink left on the bar.

" _Bouley's?_ " She marveled; "On _Valentine's_ Day? How'd you manage that?"

Finally, he tore his gaze away from the drink and turned to face her. "Also part of the package," he explained matter-of-factly, "Reservations were made in advance all over the city."

"And the rest of the guys just _let_ you choose Bouley's?" She asked in disbelief.

"I am very persuasive," he replied in his usual deadpan manner, and she smiled, amused by it.

"That you are," she agreed, still smiling warmly, but her smile soon vanished as she tried to picture the two of them sitting in a fancy restaurant. For some reason, she just couldn't see it happening. They'd probably sit and stare at the tablecloth in silence the whole time; two fish out of the water.

"You know, Heero," she offered carefully, trying to phrase it right, "Bouley _is_ wonderful, and I appreciate you managing to get us a table for tonight, but... I would really like you to take me somewhere more... you."

"More _me?_ " He frowned guardedly. "Meaning _what_ , exactly?" He asked bitingly, probably taking offense.

Relena shrugged her shoulders helplessly. "I don't know," she let out, frustrated by her own lack of resolve to say things to his face. She wasn't like that with other people, but she was so afraid he'd _bolt!_

"I just mean that... well... this is, uh... this isn't just... well..." She sighed, shaking her head at her own inaptness. She used to hold passionate debates about war and peace with this guy, why was she so nervous about silly dinner reservations?!

She paused for a minute, rephrasing words in her mind. Then, putting on her best resolute face, she raised her chin up and looked him in the eye.

"Where do _you_ like to eat?" She blurted out, actually catching him by surprise, which soon turned into a wary frown.

"Why?" He asked slowly, suspicious.

"Because I don't think I'd ever see you after tonight, so I want you to show me something about the life you lead."

There, she said it. Honesty. It was the best and only way she knew how to reach him. And it worked:

"I don't think it's somewhere you'd want to be on Valentine's," Heero admitted somewhat guiltily.

"Try me," she dared him, smirking playfully. Heero seemed doubtful. He thought about it for moment, then nodded his head curtly.

"Alright," he snarled and reached to sweep his whiskey off the bar. He took a quick gulp, emptying it, before setting the glass down again. He smirked at her then, glancing down at her fancy stilettos. "But you're going to have to change your shoes."

*          *          *

Out of all places he could have taken her, Relena surely didn't expect to find herself in Flushing, Queens. They stepped out of an NYC yellow cab in a cramped street with a shabby-looking storefront on both sides; the tiny shops all bearing colorful signs with Chinese writing. Heero paid the driver while she took a quick look around to get her bearings. There was a small shopping mall standing at the corner of the street, a modest sign with fading block-letter writing naming it: "GOLDEN SHOPPING MALL".

She had heard of Flushing's infamous "Golden Mall" through the whispers of people at the office, lamenting the commercialization of Manhattan's most famous cultural neighborhood, whose streets were once overflowing with great traditional food joints like the Golden Mall. It was a cramped space for authentic Chinese food and nostalgia in New York City, which she never got around to visit, being so busy with her work at the UN.

Heero lead the way and turned them onto a tiny underground food court. If one didn't know exactly what one was looking for, one would have easily missed the entranceway. Heero seemed to know his way well as he headed towards the street-level food court that sat directly below the Golden Mall itself. The massive storefront real estate dwarfed the small portal, leaving the secret entrance into the underground society of traditional Chinese food only to the lucky ones who possessed the necessary know-how. The entrance took them deep down a steep set of aging stairs into the basement level, where a culinary world she had never seen the likes of before awaited.

This was a place of function over form. She now understood why Heero had insisted that she went back up to her room to change her shoes. She had no doubt a germaphobe would flip out and run for his life at the sight of the place. Clearly, the entrepreneurs of the Golden Mall were all about the food, not the presentation. The basement was packed with tiny food vendors, and its hallways were undeniably dirty, cramped and claustrophobic. All of the signs around them were in Chinese, and the only English she could find were a few _"Grade Pending"_ signs dotting the walls, which made her wonder if the New York City Health Department actually knew about the place?

It _reeked_ and it was _steamy_ , but she urged herself to overlook what she saw around her and followed bravely in Heero's footsteps as he lead her deeper and deeper into the maze of tiny food stands.

Finally, he stopped by a small _"restaurant"_ called "Xi'an Famous Foods", located in the back near a DVD store full of cheap Asian porn. Out of all the vendors they've passed on their way to Xi'an's, this one was certainly the neatest, which was probably why Heero chose it. The tiny restaurant was packed with Chinese diners, and many were standing in line, but Heero managed to find them a place to sit in the far corner, where two empty barstools stood at the end of a long yellow counter above which hung a lovely montage of noodle dishes. She tried not to check if it was clean, not wishing to appear _prissy_ , but she couldn't help but run her eyes over the counter and chair swiftly. It seemed reasonable, so she took a seat. Heero remained standing.

"What will you have?" He asked curtly, almost impatiently. She wondered if he was waiting for the night to be over already so he could chuck her overboard again and jettison her the hell out of his life.

"Whatever you recommend," she hurried to say, struggling to smile despite her sadness, and he nodded dismissively before heading to stand in line to the service counter along with the rest of the customers. She placed her coat on the stool next to her, keeping his seat for him, and turned to watch him as he stood in line, hands in his jacket's pockets.

Black leather suited him, she decided after observing him for a while. He carried off the casual-elegant look well. She couldn't exactly say that the years have been kind to him – she was fairly certain they haven't –  but he did grow up nicely, and she was quite the sucker for the whole Dark-and-Brooding-Bad-Boy look, not to mention the disheveled Just-Rolled-Out-of-Bed look he had going right now.

The line was moving along rather quickly, as expected of a fast food stand. A few minutes later it was Heero's turn to order. She watched him from a short distance away as he placed their order, speaking Mandarin Chinese no less. She suspected the vendors here didn't speak much English, but it was still a bit of a shock to hear the foreign language spill smoothly out of Heero's mouth.

Judging by his appearance, she had always assumed he had some kind of Asian heritage and that he was perhaps of a mixed-descent, which would account for his exotic good looks and his exceptional blue eyes. She also knew that the Japanese "Heero Yuy" was not his real name, but for some reason she still imagined that he was of Japanese origin – even though she had never received any indication of it. She just assumed, because she knew that he was from the L1 colony cluster, and many former Americans and Japanese lived there. His English was flawless, as was his rather neutral accent, and while she had never heard him speak any other language before, she was fairly convinced that he was not of Chinese origin. Still, she couldn't help but smile goofily now as she listened to him speak Mandarin to the vendor.

When Heero rejoined her, he was carrying a plastic tray with two steaming bowls of traditional Chinese hand-pulled noodles and a few plates with a variety of small dishes and dumplings. She cleared her coat off his barstool and he took a seat, placing the tray on the counter space between them.

"You speak _Chinese_?" She asked in a light and awed tone to convey her surprise over-dramatically, hoping it will entice him to answer.

"Picked up a little when I was in Beijing," he explained nonchalantly while pulling a pair of chopsticks out of their paper wrap.

"What were you doing in Beijing?" She asked curiously and reached for her own pair of chopsticks.

"Preventer. Worked there with Chang after the war."

"Zero Five?" She asked, trying to clarify his meager words. She wasn't very familiar with the rest of the pilots, except maybe Quatre.

Heero nodded, turning to his plate of steaming noodles. "It's a bit spicy," he warned her as she reached for her own bowl.

"It's okay," she said, smiling cunningly, "I like it hot."

He scoffed quietly, acknowledging the joke, and picked up a bunch of dripping noodles with his wooden utensils. Relena tasted a bit of noodles too (they were heavenly), before picking up the conversation again:

"Where else have you been since... you know."

"Here and there," he muttered tersely, shrugging, and continued to eat, focused on his food rather than on her. She was pretty sure that he hadn't made any eye contact with her since they'd stepped out of the cab. She waited for him to say something more, and when he didn't she just nodded in acceptance and continued to eat as well. This was getting awkward.

They ate in silence for a while more. Heero finished his noodles first. Then he just turned to look the other way and stared vaguely at the line in front of the service counter. Relena picked at her food, poking it with her chopsticks as she tried desperately to figure out a way to make the evening work.

She had never hesitated in his presence before, not like this. She might have approached him timidly in the past on occasion, but she never had to second guess her every move. She found that she missed that heedless girl who had no problem engaging such a dangerous and complex boy. She was fearless back then, bordering on foolish. Growing up has made her cautious, more level headed. Now, talking to this troubled young man sitting next to her, she felt that caution was advised. There was a frailty in him she had never seen before. She was afraid he might break if she said something wrong.

Relena had just about enough of playing with her food while sitting in this maddening silence, when suddenly one of the shop's workers – a young Chinese man in a white apron and black pants she had seen work behind the counter earlier – approached them, carrying a small brown paper bag. He presented Heero the bag, speaking to him in Chinese. He was asking him something, Relena realized, confirming something – because he was gesturing with the paper bag at Heero and then turned around to point at somewhere outside the store. Relena figured he was telling Heero that he had bought whatever was in the bag at another vendor.

Heero nodded a few times and said something back in Chinese, perhaps a "yes" to acknowledge that he was interested. She speculated that he had been facing the other way that whole time because he had been waiting for the man to bring him this bag.

Heero reached into his back pocket to pull out his wallet. He dug out a few crumples bills and paid the young seller, saying something she thought she recognized as Chinese for "Thank you". The young cook nodded in gratitude as he accepted the money. He handed Heero the brown paper bag and walked away.

"What was that all about?" She asked, looking curiously at her date.

"Breaking the ice," Heero said and placed the small bag on the counter in front of him. By the heavy clanking sound it made against the plastic surface, Relena realized that it was a glass bottle.

"Alcohol?" She questioned rather dismally and watched Heero pull the liquor bottle out of the bag. It was a fat white bottle with a red and gold sticker bearing red Chinese writing. She didn't recognize the brand.

"Jesus, what is that?" She let out, a little appalled.

"Moutai," Heero said and pulled out two small shot glasses out of the bag. He opened the bottle and poured each of them a drink.

Moutai, as he soon explained, was the most famous brand of sorghum-based Chinese liquor. It had a fairly high alcohol content that went straight up to her head and shot down to her knees at the same time. The taste was potent, but not unbearable. It seemed to go smoothly down Heero's throat, but it made her cough a little. Heero offered to order some fruit wine instead, but she just shook her head, still coughing, and told him that she could stomach it.

"I want to experience this meal just as you would," she insisted and Heero actually smiled a little; just this charming little tug on his lips, which he hurried to hide behind his shot of Moutai. Finally, some progress.

Relena took another timid sip of the clear-colored beverage, wincing a little at the pungent flavor. She swallowed quickly and hurried to throw a small pork dumpling into her mouth to override the burning aftertaste.

"Quite the ice breaker," she chuckled, already feeling lightheaded. "Heero Yuy! If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to get into my panties tonight!" She joked, but Heero tactfully ignored her suggestive remark and kept drinking.

Now that Heero seemed willing to open up to some actual conversation, she tried to come up with small talk to further break the ice:

"So what languages do you speak?" She eventually asked, continuing their conversation from before, as it seemed like a safe topic with which to start.

"Mainly English," Heero replied quietly as he fished a slippery dumpling out of one of the many plates, using his chopsticks. "A little Japanese," he added, still focused on capturing his food, "what I remember, at least," he added with a small sigh. "Some Chinese. Basic Russian. A little Hebrew."

" _Hebrew?!_ " Relena exclaimed in awe, a bit taken aback by the unusual revelation.

"Yeah," Heero confirmed casually and finally managed to grip the elusive dumpling between the chopsticks. "I was stationed at the Preventer Middle East division in Tel Aviv for three years," he explained and threw the small dumpling into his mouth.

"Tel Aviv? Really?" She marveled, as if he had just confessed to have lived on another planet.

Heero chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders dismissively. "I went where I was needed," he murmured, toying with another dumpling. "But it was too much of a hot zone, so I transferred."

"Three years... wow." Somehow, she found it hard to picture him staying in one place for so long, which made her wonder what – or more precisely _who_ – made him stay. It was too soon to ask, but she suspected that he wouldn't have stayed there for so long if he hadn't benefitted from the experience.

"So how well do you speak the language?" She enquired in a friendly tone.

"Just phrasebook stuff," he muttered dryly and reached for the bottle of Moutai again. "Makes my throat hurt."

She laughed, watching him pour both of them another round. "I can't imagine," she confessed with a wily smile. "How many drinks will it take before you'd be willing to demonstrate?"

"Quite a lot," he replied in a deadpan manner and she giggled again, picking up on the subtle humor behind his stoic words. Heero laughed a little too, just short chuckle that died quickly in his throat. She assumed the alcohol was beginning to affect him, for he seemed a bit more laid back now.

"How about you?" Heero asked after a moment or two, looking down at his second shot of Moutai.

"You mean languages?" Relena tried to make his vague question clearer. He nodded and emptied the shot.

"Yeah," he confirmed with a hoarse sigh, setting the empty glass back down. "How many?" He picked up his chopsticks again, his hand hovering indecisively above the small variety of dishes still waiting on the tray, until he chose a small lamb dish.

Relena thought about it for a moment. "Uhm, about... five?" She ventured a guess without counting internally first. Raising her hand up, she tried to count on her fingers: "Let's see: German, French, Spanish, Italian, Dutch... oh, and English. That's six, then."

Heero nodded, chewing, but didn't have anything else to say. The awkward silence threatened to return, so Relena picked up the conversation again:

"So what did you do after Tel Aviv?"

Heero shifted uneasily in his seat. He still hadn't turned to face her, busying himself with his food.

"I tried Brussels HQ for a while, then London..." his voice trailed off slowly and he stared miserably at his empty bowl of noodles; "It didn't work out," he added solemnly, his eyelids sliding shut for a brief moment. Again he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, which suggested to Relena that there was more to that story, but he was unwilling to talk about it.

"I was transferred to a lower key branch here in New York about two years ago," he then concluded, reaching for the Moutai again. "Cyber Intelligence."

"Lower key?" She frowned, finding it odd that he'd choose to ride a desk in a lower-key field office, but then again, she couldn't blame him if he was tired of his furious and violent lifestyle.

"Yeah," Heero murmured to affirm, looking away. He studied the still long line in front of the service counter to their side, gazing ahead miserably for a moment. "I don't do field work anymore," he explained shamefully, and turned back to face the counter so he could reach for his third shot of Moutai. "I, uh... can't," he added quietly and gulped down the drink.

Relena studied his profile tensely. "What happened?"

Heero reached for the bottle again and poured himself another shot. "I pulled a lot of crazy stunts back in my day," he said while staring numbly at the liquid pouring into his glass; "Broke a lot of things that can't be fixed," he added miserably and placed the bottle aside. He reached for his glass and raised it to his lips, stopping. "Plus, I have a bad heart." He snorted cynically at the subtext behind his bitter statement and then gulped down the shot, throwing his head back.

Relena smiled sadly at the reference, for she thought she knew what he must have meant.

"You don't have a bad heart, Heero," she assured him softly, "You never did," she emphasized, leaning closer to him. He turned to face her, meeting her eyes for the first time since they'd entered this filthy food court. She studied him quietly for a moment, sadly noting the flushed hue on his gaunt and bristly cheeks, and that his blue eyes had glazed-over slightly. He was drunk; a miserable kind of drunk.

Heero held her gaze firmly, looking deeply into her eyes as if trying to assert whether or not she was speaking the truth. He must have realized that she was being honest with him, because his lips then quirked upwards into a cynical little smile she would have found rather sexy if she didn't know he was intoxicated. He was thanking her for the compliment, but instead of feeling good about it, she felt sad. She hated seeing him like this.

They were silent for a while. Heero resumed drinking and she tried to abstain from observing him worriedly, returning her attention to her meal instead of focusing on his excessive drinking. It occurred to her that ever since their unexpected reunion two weeks ago, she had never seen him without a drink in his hand. He was drinking champagne at the auction, then he was drinking whiskey at her hotel bar and she had lost count on how many shots he's had since that waiter brought him the Moutai bottle. That in itself wasn't proof that he was an alcoholic, but if she added his unkempt appearance, his problems at work (which were the reason why he was forced to take part in the date auction event in the first place) and his unusual negligence to note the time and meet with her at eight o'clock tonight, things added up and it became harder to deny what she was seeing: Heero had a problem.

"Ever thought about going back to space?" She asked just for the sake of speaking, hoping it might stop him from drinking another shot. She knew that she was approaching a touchy subject, but she was desperate to say something, anything.

Heero stared dully at the liquor bottle for a while, his expression numb.

"No," he finally said and turned to look at Relena. "How 'bout you?" he asked, his voice a bit slurred, "What've you been up to?"

Relena hesitated, debating whether or not this was really the time to share. She doubted he was in any condition to hold a serious conversation. Choosing to keep things simple, she refrained from telling him about why she had chosen to step away from politics and live a normal course of life for a while. Instead, she told him that after the Mariemeia Uprising she went back home and tried to put her life back on track. She told him about how she went back to school and how she planned on re-entering world-politics after she graduated with her Masters. Heero listened quietly, nodding his head here and there. Once she was done talking, the silence returned and Heero reached for the bottle again. He toyed with it, swinging it by its neck between two fingers. She feared he might open it again, so she tried to bring up a new topic of conversation:

"So uh... date much?" She just went ahead and asked him, feeling stupid even as the words left her mouth.

"Not really," He replied plainly, and frowned at his own answer. "Not at all," he then corrected, shrugging his shoulders helplessly.

She sent him this dirty little look, teasing him. "Please don't tell me you've never..." she taunted and he scoffed haughtily, interrupting her before she could finish that absurd train of thought.

"I've been with women," he clarified harshly, "Just not on dates."

"Hmm," she let out, smiling slyly because he had failed to pick up on her teasing. "No one special, then?" She quirked a skeptic eyebrow at him; "Not even when you were stationed in the Middle East for three years?" She questioned knowingly.

"There was this one agent..." he confirmed her suspicion, speaking slowly, tiredly, and then released a weary sigh; "Nothing serious. She ended it."

Relena nodded in understanding. "Yeah, I know what that's like," she mumbled, toying with her food using the pair of chopsticks. "There was this guy," she told him, even though he didn't bother to ask, "During my Bachelor's... but it didn't work out." She shrugged her shoulders and smiled wistfully at her unfinished bowl of noodles. "I didn't have time for it..." she muttered, sighing; "It was nothing to cry about, anyway."

Heero regarded her silently for a few seconds, his eyes searching her face for something she couldn't fathom.

"I should thank you," he let out thoughtfully after a while, stirring the soup left in his bowl, his blue eyes grim and brooding.

"What for?" She asked, confused.

"For placing the highest bid," he mumbled, still stirring the noodles-less dish.  

"You did thank me," she reminded him carefully, watching closely for his reaction, "at the party."

He stopped and turned to look at her, frowning for it must have slipped his mind, and Relena suddenly had this gut-wrenching feeling that the glass of champagne she had seen him drink at the charity event wasn't his only one. He could have already been intoxicated when the auction began, and if not, then it must mean that he continued drinking after she had left – so much that he had forgotten their brief exchange of words after she had won him as her Valentine's date. God, that broke her heart. The thought of him all alone at that party, standing invisible within a crowd of people as he emptied one champagne flute after the other while no one even noticed, was too much to bear. The thought that he had no one to care for him, no one to look after him as he fell apart, was too much to bear.

Heero cast his gaze back down to gawk numbly at his empty bowl. "In any case," he continued quietly, "I'm glad it was you and not some other crazy chick from that party."

"That's a compliment, right?" She laughed, "Or do you think me crazy?"

He froze for a second, probably realizing what he had said, and then snorted quietly. "A compliment. Probably." His words were clipped and his tone indifferent, but the slight lilt in his voice gave away his amusement. He was teasing her.

In spite of her uneasiness at seeing Heero like this, Relena smiled a little. In the very least, drinking made him a bit more talkative and just a tad charming.

"How did you get yourself into that silly thing anyway?" She decided it was about time to ask him about it, although she still felt a bit like she was stepping on his toes. He grimaced, clearly reluctant to approach the subject.

"That auctioneer mentioned that you disobeyed orders," she reminded him carefully. "Is that true?"

Heero's face hardened into an angry scowl. "It was just a stupid misunderstanding," he grumbled disdainfully and reached for the Moutai bottle again. She watched anxiously as he poured himself his who-knew-how-many shot of liquor.

"Not even worthy of an official reprimand," he concluded gruffly and downed the shot quickly.

"What kind of misunderstanding?" Relena probed carefully.

"Miscommunication," Heero muttered an ambiguous answer. "Tomato tomatho," he added grudgingly, his voice slurring.

"It must have been _something_ if it made your boss force you to enter that auction," she pointed out carefully. Perhaps she wasn't the only one who had noticed Heero's deterioration. She was certain that his condition affected his work as well.

"I told the asshole I'd resign," Heero grunted and reached for the last dumpling on their shared tray. "But he still made me do it," he sighed and threw it into his mouth, chewing angrily. "Damn prick."

"Why didn't you?" Relena then asked and he frowned at her, not following

"What?" He grunted.

"Resign."

Heero stared at her blankly for a moment, before casting his eyes back down. "Bills don't pay themselves," he mumbled, his gaze downcast.

"You don't have to stay with Preventer if you don't want to."

He actually laughed at that one; a short, snorting kind of chuckle full bitterness and self-abhor. He poured himself another drink.

"Would you quit politics?" He asked, looking at her intensely, for the answer was obvious to him,

"I suppose not," she let out thoughtfully, "but that's different."

"How so?" He questioned and gulped his shot of Moutai for the umpteenth time. He set the glass back on the counter and bowed his head down low, heaving a sigh.

"I can't see myself anywhere else," he confessed quietly, almost whispering; "I won't fit anywhere else."

A long, awkward silence fell between them. Heero remained leaning over his empty glass, staring numbly at the dirty countertop, while Relena gazed wretchedly at her food, searching for words.

"I heard that the others all found other occupations... except Zero Five, that is."

"Preventer employs over forty-thousand people," he informed her matter-of-factly, "There are eight billion people living on Earth alone. By your logic, you could say that there are seven hundred ninety-nine billion, nine hundred ninety-nine million, nine hundred sixty thousand people who have found other occupations."

She gawked at him, wide-eyed. "I can't believe you managed to calculate this after so many drinks!" She exclaimed, laughing. "Not to mention recite that impossible number!"

Heero cracked a small smile in response; a sad little tug of his lips.

"Numbers are easy," he said solemnly, shrugging his shoulders in a small, helpless gesture; the motion was lagging, drunken. "It's people who are complicated."

"Is that why you drink so much?" She outright said it, no more denial. She could no longer ignore what she was seeing, and if no one was willing to say it to his face – then she will be the one to say it. She will probably never see him again after tonight, so she had nothing to lose. If she could just gain this little intervention on his behalf, then she would have done her part.

Heero whirled his head around to face her, blatant outrage evident on his pale and unshaven features.

"Is this supposed to be an intervention?" He hissed angrily.

"Should it be?" She replied calmly, quirking a spiteful eyebrow at him.

"That's it?" He snapped; "After barely one evening with me you're ready to deem me an alcoholic?"

"I didn't say that," she apologized guiltily, looking away.

"Don't assume to know anything about me, Relena," he scolded her coldly, speaking her name for the first time since they've met at the auction, and she almost winced at the sound of it, for it wasn't spoken in the kind of tone she would have liked to hear.

"You didn't then and you as sure as hell don't now," Heero continued harshly, "You have no idea."

"I'm sure I don't," she sighed, looking the other way sadly. The evening was taking a turn for the worse and she tried to think of a way to fix it.

"Look, Heero," she tried to pacify him, "I didn't mean to accuse you of anything. I just think... well... something is off. You're not yourself."

"And what the hell do _you_ know about me?" He accused harshly; "Whatever it is you _think_ you know, forget it. I'm not that boy anymore."

"I know, I'm sorry. For what it's worth, I feel the same way. It was wrong of me to intervene."

"I agreed to a _date_ , not an intervention," he grumbled poisonously, glaring at her in heated resentment. "Your call."

"A date," she assured him, struggling to offer a placating smile under his hard blue gaze. "Although, to be honest," she smiled a little more playfully, trying to lighten things up with a bit of humor, "so far this feels more like a _job interview_..."

Heero must have caught onto her wish to let things slide, because he snarled cynically, playing along. "An interrogation," he offered instead, his tone serious, but his eyes gleamed with bitter sarcasm.

"Yeah, something like that," she agreed with a helpless smile.

"Then enough questions," he suggested and filled her glass again, offering it to her so they could make a toast. He raised his own glass towards hers, holding her gaze with his alcohol-bleary blue eyes.

Holding her glass against his, Relena waited for him to say something, gazing expectantly into his deep blue eyes, but Heero didn't say anything more. He looked like he was waiting for her to offer a toast, so she did:

"To old friends?" She suggested with a timid smile.

"Sure, why not," he concurred resignedly, nodding, and they clinked their shot glasses together. He took his down in one gulp, while she sipped the acrid fluid carefully and quickly urged it down with some more food.

The conversation flowed a bit more smoothly after a couple of more drinks. For a while, they were just like any couple of old friends catching up. Heero got a bit careless with his choice of words as their date progressed and the drinks piled up, revealing a few more things about himself. He told her a little about his time in China, working with Chang Wufei for about a year, before transferring to the Middle East in AC 198. He told her about Israel, about how impressed he was by its powerful, one-of-a-kind, army and the country's advanced defense technologies which were employed by Preventer worldwide. He claimed to have learned a lot from his experiences there, both professionally and personally. She then asked him about his work in Europe, and that was when he had changed the subject, grumbling something about how it was her turn to talk while he poured himself one last drink, emptying the bottle.

So she told him about her studies and her work in the UN, where she helped gather and file information regarding the violation of human rights all over the world, mostly crimes of war and terror against innocent populations, but also violation of POW rights and such. It was difficult work, mainly because she was exposed to so many horrors still happening around the world. In the very least, she told him, it helped keep her motivated to change the world to the best of her abilities.

She went on, talking about politics a bit, when she realized that he wasn't exactly listening – nodding off even. She stopped and suggested that they call it a night. Heero agreed, gesturing his half-hearted inclination with his head, too drunk to respond coherently.

He wobbled heavily as he struggled to get up, nearly tripping when he moved off the barstool. He shoved a clumsy hand into his back pocket and pulled out his tattered leather wallet.

"Split it?" She offered politely, but he just shook his head offhandedly – the motion a bit too big and ungainly – dismissing her offer as he yanked a couple of bills and threw them carelessly in the general direction of their tray. He then pushed heavily away from the bar using one hand, gaining a helpful momentum before stumbling towards the exit. Relena grabbed her purse and slipped quickly into her coat before walking after him. He was so drunk that he was bumping into chairs and people inside of the crowded little food joint. Relena sent his helpless victims a look of apology and hurried to catch up with Heero, squeezing herself by his side so she could guide him safely out of the narrow restaurant.

Heero was zig-zagging badly as he walked. She had to wrap her arm around his, holding him tightly against her so he wouldn't wander off as they headed through the maze of vendors towards the exit leading back up to the street. Heero tried to stop a few times on their way out, drawn to almost every seat he could spot. She urged him to keep walking, tugging him along, and told him that the exit was near and that he could use some fresh air. He just moaned wretchedly and made a vague accepting gesture with his head, keeping it bowed down low as he kept walking unsteadily with her support.

She had to practically haul him up the filthy flight of stairs leading back up to the street. Once the cold night air crashed against his face, he seemed to stir back to life. He pushed her away, quite roughly, and stumbled a few steps forward until he threw himself towards the nearest wall, leaning against it with both arms outstretched and his back bent forward low, wheezing. It took her a second to realize what was happening, and by the time her brain caught up and processed his intentions, Heero was already hurling loudly, emptying his dinner onto the pavement between his legs and the wall.

Emergency blow: unable to cope with the staggering amount of alcohol he had consumed, his body was forcing the poison out of its systems.

Standing a couple of feet away, Relena watched, mortified, as Heero continued retching miserably. She couldn't believe that she was witnessing him like this. Her heart crumbled at the sight, overcome with pity.

Having nothing left to heave, Heero coughed and wiped his chin with his black leather sleeve, groaning in agony. He pushed off the wall with one arm, spinning around unsteadily so he was facing the street again. He blinked, disoriented, took one stumbling step to the right, and then just plopped down to the floor, slumping against the wall next to his puddle of puke. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes, and just... sat there.

Relena felt tears sting her eyes. She had seen her fair share of drunken frat boys, but Heero...

O _h, Heero..._ She sighed internally, feeling awful for him.

A cab rolled slowly near them, the passenger-side window sliding down to reveal a middle-aged cabbie leaning towards it. "Hey lady – you all right?" He asked; "Need any help?"

"Yes, thank you," she replied with a resigned sigh. "He's had too much to drink."

The driver nodded in acknowledgment and pulled over. He stepped out of the cab and circled around it to help her carry Heero inside. They hoisted him up between the two of them, holding him under his armpits; he was heavier than he looked. Heero's eyes remained closed, his head dangling limply down. He mumbled something unintelligible when they began to move him, but then just fell silent again. They dragged his limp body towards the cab slowly, his shoes scraping against the pavement.

With the cabbie's aid, she managed to sit Heero down in the back seat and then stepped inside the cab as well, panting. This was _not_ how she had envisioned this evening coming to an end.

"Where to?" The driver asked after he had settled back into his seat.

"Uh," she let out, thinking fast as she considered giving him her hotel address but then quickly regretted it. Heero won't appreciate waking up in her bed come morning.

She turned to Heero, who was lying ungracefully flaccid next to her, slumped in the corner against the door and the back seat.

"Heero," she called his name out softly and placed a gentle hand on his jeans-clad thigh. "Where do you live?" She asked, rocking him gently.

"...'ell..." he slurred the word heavily, and Relena frowned, making nothing out of it.

"Where?" She asks again, confused.

"...fuckin'... _hell!_ " he stressed again, groaning, and then hissed this sharp and _nasty_ sounding word of frustration, something along the line of _"ssem-ek!",_ before he drifted back to sleep.

_That would be Hebrew_ , Relena surmised, which answered her earlier question as to how many drinks it would take to get him to speak the foreign language in front of her: apparently – a whole bottle of Moutai.

She regarded him with a wretched look on her face, trying to figure out what he had tried to tell her. Thinking that he must have meant that his life was a living hell, she felt sorry for him, but when she checked his wallet for his driver's license and saw his address, she felt a bit silly, because it was a Hell's Kitchen address – a rather bad neighborhood west of Midtown Manhattan. He meant to say that he lived in Hell's Kitchen.

She gave the cabbie his address and about forty minutes later they arrived at an old apartment building at 485 West 46th Street. The driver helped her get Heero out of the cab and asked if she needed any help carrying him in. Slinging Heero's arm across her shoulders, she shook her head and thanked the man, telling him that she could manage it from here. The taxi drove off and Relena braced herself to the task ahead – looking hopefully at the five-story high building and praying that it had an elevator [[1]].

It did, thank God, because by the time they reached it, Heero was completely uncooperative. If he had managed to heed her repeated requests to put one foot in front of the other while walking into the building, once they made it to the elevator and climbed up to the fifth floor, he was simply hanging onto her weakly, leaning all of his weight against her hip. If she hadn't held him by the arm draped across her shoulders, he would have slid to the elevator floor and easily remained there until morning.

Searching his pockets for his keys as they stood in front of his locked apartment door was an exceptionally awkward moment. She searched his jacket first, and once her search came up empty she moved to check his jeans' pockets. Digging inside his back and front pockets, her fingers brushing against his hot flesh through the fabric, she smirked to herself. In the end, she was the one who ended up with her hands shoved down his pants... not that he even noticed.

Of course, the keys were in the last place she looked, after she had rummaged through the two back pockets first and then moved to the ones at the front. The left one was empty, but she finally found a set of keys tucked tightly inside his front right pocket. Heaving a thankful sigh, she fished them out and unlocked the door. She drew Heero, who had been leaning heavily against the hallway wall, towards her and rearranged her grip around him so she could guide him inside. He kept his eyes closed and his head bowed the whole time, but he was still hanging on to a shred of consciousness.

She found a light switch on the wall by the door and flipped it on. Harsh white fluorescent light flooded the small apartment, revealing a filthy rat hole. There were liquor bottles everywhere – on every surface and even the floor. The place _smelled_ like she couldn't believe it. She spotted an open box of rotten pizza somewhere and hoped to God that it was the sole source of the foul smell. She had to force herself to quit staring in disbelief at the depressing apartment, and went to search for the bedroom.

Once they reached it, Heero pried his arm away from her sluggishly and stumbled on his own towards the small double bed at the center of the dingy room. He collapsed on top of it, lying prone and horizontally across the mattress, his feet sticking out and dangling in the air. He let out this long wretched groan before he fell asleep, his mouth hanging open.

Relena stood by his bed, her heart pounding in agony.

Jesus, how the mighty have fallen.

She decided to take his shoes off for him, to make him more comfortable. The moment she touched the first black dress-shoe, he woke up, jolting in alarm. He tried to pull away, jerking his legs aside and mumbling incoherent protests as he shook his head against the mattress in violent negation.

Relena stopped, her hands still hovering in the air where his feet were a moment ago.

"Heero," she whispered gently, "It's okay, it's just me," she assured him and reached for his shoe again. "I'm just trying to make you comfortable."

This time he panicked, calling out:

"Leggo!" He exclaimed, slurring heavily, and kicked her hand away with his right foot. "Dun touch me!"

She did as he asked and moved away, feeling her heart clench painfully in her chest. She sincerely hoped that his extreme reaction to her touch didn't mean that he's been... God, she hoped not, but it made her wonder – what if that was why he refused to talk about Europe? What if something as horrible as... Could he have been raped? No. No! She was just jumping to completely unfounded conclusions, influenced by her work for the High Commissioner on Human Rights. Some of the written testimonies and formal complaints she's had to handle were too vile to be put into words, and yet it was her job to compose these reports, quantify them and pass them along to a body that didn't have the necessary power or authority to do much about these atrocities, other than to file an official protest and make some useless recommendation that will never be taken seriously by anyone.

On the bed, Heero curled into a fetal position, drawing his knees up to his chest to shield his legs from her. He was in no condition to do much more, so she climbed carefully on the bed, sitting on her knees next to him, and gently slipped off his right shoe.

Heero sprung a clumsy hand up and grabbed one of the pillows, throwing it over his head to hide his face. He kept shaking his head in denial against the pillow, almost nervously. She didn't understand why, until she took off his left shoe and revealed a plastic prosthesis. She gaped at it, shocked.

Heero let out this tortured little whimper, clutching the pillow against his face with both hands now. "Don't look..." he wailed, his voice muffled against the cushion.

"Heero..." she let out numbly, not sure what to say.

"DON'T LOOK!" He cried out, hysterical, and flung the pillow aside violently. "I lost it!" He shouted brokenly, shooting up to a sitting position, his wild blue eyes shimmering with tears as he looked at her despairingly.

"I lost it – okay?!" He repeated grudgingly and then suddenly spun around wildly and threw himself back onto the bed, lying on his stomach with his head dangling over the edge of the bed. He hurled, coughing and sobbing simultaneously. His whole body quaked as he vomited onto the floor at the foot of the bed, clutching the edge of the mattress tightly.

Relena remained seated on the bed, sitting on her knees unmoving, and watched him, unsure what to do. Tears sheeted down her face mutely as she witnessed his utter disgrace. Heero looked like a broken toy someone had tossed to the gutter.

Having nothing left to vomit, Heero just lay there with his head leaning off the bed, gawking numbly at the floor.

"How..." Relena mumbled dazedly, staring at his hunched backside in shock. "How..?"

"Lebanon," he murmured miserably and crawled backwards, curling into himself at the center of the bed. He struggled to wriggle out of his jacket. "Five years ago..." he whispered, twisting his body and arms until he managed to slip them out of the sleeves.

"Told'ja," he chuckled bitterly and chucked the jacket aside, where it landed on the floor. "It was a hot zone..."

"And that's why you transferred," she realized sadly, recalling what he had told her about why he had left the Middle East. Now, she understood. Heero didn't talk about Europe because that was where he had to recover afterwards, adjusting to living without a leg. No wonder he avoided thinking about it. It must have been a very dark time for him.

Heero nodded his head repeatedly, his eyes closed in shame. He sat up slowly, gripping his face with one hand, hiding.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered in a trembling voice; "I'm sorry I yelled..."

She noted that his white dress shirt had been soiled with vomit, and her face twisted in sympathy. She inched closer to him, still on her knees, and reached to unbutton the stained shirt.

"C'mon," she encouraged him softly, as if gentling an animal; "Let's get you out of this dirty shirt..."

He allowed her to unbutton the shirt all the way down, exposing his thin yet muscular torso. When her fingers retreated, leaving his shirt open, Heero reached down to his belt and fumbled drunkenly with the buckle until he unfastened it. He started unzipping his pants and pushing them down, when Relena suddenly grasped what he was thinking:

"Heero, what the hell?!" She exclaimed, appalled.

He froze, his pants hanging down low, enough to reveal the perfectly toned triangle lines outlining his groin. Seeing his obvious stupor, she clarified harshly: "We are _not_ having sex!"

He stared at her, stumped.

"Jesus!" She groaned, shaking her head in disappointment.

Realizing his mistake, Heero raised a hand to hide his face again, bashful.

"You should go..." he mumbled sorrowfully; "This was a bad idea. I'm... I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to see this..."

She reached her arms up, slowly, and cupped his face carefully between her soft hands. She caressed his bristly cheeks, tracing his jawline gently, before wrapping her hands behind his neck and drawing him towards her. She pulled Heero into a hug, lowering his head against her shoulder. She heard him draw in a quiet breath, surprised, and smiled softly against his ear.

"You don't scare me, Heero," she whispered lovingly, "You never did... It's okay. It's okay... I'm here."

She had never judged him before, and she wasn't about to start doing so now. And yet, while she has always had faith in him, now – seeing how low he had sunk – that faith faltered, tested by his impossible frailty. This was no longer the heroic young soldier she had admired, but a broken young man struggling with the ramifications of what that soldier had done. She wanted to believe in him, but she needed him to show her that he was still that person deep inside. She didn't care if he was weak and helpless now; she just needed to know that he could overcome this, as he had done with so many other obstacles before. She refused to believe the booze was stronger than him. She needed him to still be worthy of her faith.

"I know it's hard," she told him, whispering soothingly; "I can't imagine what it must have been like for you... but I'm here now... I'm here."

Heero let out this condemned chuckle/sob. He pulled away from her, shaking his head in despair. "No... You're not," he protested weakly, choking on tears. "You're here for the semester," he reminded her bitterly, "I can't... I can't rely on you and then... then alone again, readjusting... I... I _can't_..." He shook his head again, wiping his tears with the back on his hand, sniffling.

"I shouldn't have come tonight..." he mumbled, casting his gaze down sadly to the bed; "It was a mistake... I'm sorry... I shouldn't have..."

"Then why did you?" She asked, leaning down so she could gaze into his tearful blue eyes.

"I thought..." he muffled, distressed, "I promised myself I won't drink tonight, but... I couldn't. Not even for for _one_ night!" He cried out hopelessly and pushed further away from her, collapsing against the headboard. He buried his face in his hands again, hiding in misery.

"I'm sorry…" he wept, "I... I tried... but not enough... I'm sorry..."

"Heero..."

"I hate this... _all_ of it!" He moaned loudly, clutching his head and shaking it repeatedly; "I can't help it... the drinking. It's stronger than anything I've ever... It's... It's too hard and I... I can't stop. It's just... It's too hard! Everything is so... It's all so hard!" He sobbed, hiding his face with both hands.

She embraced him again, rocking him gently and petting his soft brown hair. When he calmed down a bit, she laid Heero down carefully against the pillows and covered him with a blanket. She sat next to him for a while, watching him sleep. Her heart was still pounding forcefully after what she had just witnessed: her hero, completely fallen from grace.

A while later, when she was certain that he was deep asleep, Relena got up and started cleaning the mess he had made at the foot of the bed. She found a bucket and a mop under the bathroom sink and cleaned the bedroom floor. She then proceeded to clean the rest of the apartment, feeling the need to cleanse the place from Heero's disgrace. She must have worked for over two hours, gathering trash into three bags no less, and collecting over a dozen empty liquor bottles from all over the small apartment.

It was four in the morning by the time she was done making the place presentable; not clean, just bearable. Her stylish blue mini-dress was filthy and her hair was a mess. She was fairly certain her makeup had smeared after shedding so many tears tonight. She couldn't wait to go home, back to her luxurious hotel suite and away from all of this ugliness and filth. She didn't want to be around this grossly pathetic version of Heero. It was too disturbing; she felt like her whole world had fractured tonight. Things didn't make sense in a world where Heero Yuy had succumbed to such darkness and stooped so slow. She felt the need to run rather than cope. She wasn't running away from him for good, but she couldn't help him when she was feeling like this – shaken to her core. She needed to get away, to recalculate her route.

She needed to work on herself first, to forgive him for his humanity. She mustn't blame him for being a mere mortal. She wasn't being fair to him, expecting him to remain this perfectly untainted angel of mercy and vengeance. It was time to let go of this childish notion. This will be her last step towards growing up. She had to let go of this perfect vision she had of him; a preconception that was probably never true, but she had held onto it for so many years... comparing everything to this unattainable image. It was ironic; she had dismissed so many because she had thought no man could ever match up to the boy with whom she had fallen in love in her youthful zeal, and now she found that that included him as well. Talk about a wake-up call. This evening, this date with a boy who had turned into a man, had made her see that she too had to sober up. Only then, will she be able to help Heero do the same.

After checking up on him one last time, making sure that he was still comfortably asleep, Relena prepared to leave. Knowing that it was very likely Heero won't remember much of this night, she placed the empty liquor bottles she had collected from all over his apartment in a large pile standing by the front door – accumulating evidence of his troubling condition. Before she left, Relena grabbed a blue marker she had found lying around somewhere and a small yellow sticky note. She wrote something down and placed it on top of the pile of bottles:

#  **GET HELP**

*          *          *

Three weeks later, on a chilly but sunny March morning, Relena was walking down the famous plaza leading into the United Nations Secretariat Building, where a long row of world flags were flapping wildly under the cold wind. After going through the UN Security Screening at the main gate, she made her way down the UNHQ plaza towards the historic skyscraper, passing by the iconic "Knotted Gun" sculpture; a statue of a Colt Python revolver with its barrel tied in a knot to symbolize non-violence. It was one of her favorites.

Her high heel shoes tapped rhythmically against the light-and-dark-gray stone tiles as she hurried towards the main entrance, running late. White benches were lined along the boulevard, next to a parallel line of neatly trimmed bushes. As she passed by the third bench on her way into the building, Relena noticed a familiar figure sitting there: Heero. The young man sat stiffly, gazing blankly ahead at the tall UN building, waiting. She had to run some personal errands that morning, hence she was coming in late. Heero could have very well been waiting for over two hours, sitting out here in the cold wind. She paused, regarding him quietly for a moment, hesitant to approach him while memories of their last encounter were still throbbing freshly in her mind. She felt that she needed a little more time, which was why she hadn't tried to contact him since, but apparently Heero was done waiting.

Even though it was 11 a.m. on a workday, he wasn't wearing Preventer uniform, which suggested that he was off-duty. Instead, he was dressed in plain bright-blue jeans and the black leather jacket he had worn on their date. When he finally noticed her standing there looking at him, Heero stood up, shoving two hands into his jacket's pockets. A cool East River breeze tousled his hair as it tunneled its way through the tall buildings surrounding the UN outdoor complex.

She approached him slowly. They stood face to face, a few steps apart, assessing each other tensely. It was Heero who broke the silence first:

"Relena," he acknowledged her with his quiet deadpan tone, gesturing a subtle greeting with this head.

"Heero," she greeted back, trying not to frown at his unexpected appearance at her workplace. "How are you?" She asked politely.

"Fine," he replied simply, turning to look up at the towering UN building behind her. "Better," he then corrected in a modestly hushed tone. He lowered his head back down to face her. She waited to see what else he might have to say, and took a moment to examine him more closely.

He did look better. For one, he was well-groom; his features were clean-shaven and his complexion seemed healthier, not so pale anymore. His face was still gaunt, but not ashen, and his eyes were no longer surrounded by dark stains of fatigue. He also carried himself differently, appearing taller somehow; like someone had placed metal wires back in all the right places, keeping his posture upright and confident. It was a far cry from the hunched and weary young man she had dated close to a month ago.

"I came to apologize," Heero finally spoke again, his words slow, but steady. He sounded nothing like that broken man weeping in his bed; he sounded like himself again.

"There's no need to apologize, Heero," she hurried to assure him, feeling a bit awkward in this strange position. It was hard not to, when being the direct object of his attention, having those penetrating blue eyes of his bear holes into her very soul as he scrutinized her carefully for her reaction.

"There is," he insisted evenly. "And I should also thank you," he added, looking away uneasily; "I hit rock bottom that night, and I never would have realized that if you hadn't been there to witness it," he confessed, keeping his head down shamefully. "I woke up feeling so... ashamed of myself," he muttered bleakly and then lifted his head up to face her again, his expression tense, like he was forcing himself to look her in the eye despite his embarrassment. "I put myself in medical detox that same day. I've been sober for three weeks now. Medical leave."

She couldn't help but smile at his earnest confession. She was proud of him.

"That's good to hear," she said, smiling encouragingly.

He nodded, accepting her support, and cast his eyes down for a moment, appearing deep in thought.

"I thought about you," he then added, almost coyly, still looking at the floor. He raised his head to look at her again, a gleam of agitation in his eyes. "In rehab," he elaborated stiffly. "There were many instances during detox when I wished I was dead, but thinking about you helped."

She wanted to tell him that she was honored, but she felt that she should let him finish saying his piece. This was important to him.

"You're the only one who still believed in me... even when I was beyond hope," he thanked her, his blue eyes suddenly fierce with determination; passionate and sincere. If one month ago she had questioned what she must have meant to him, today she had no more doubts; she wasn't just excess weight. Far from it, in fact, for these were not the eyes of someone who considered her mere jetsam.

"I fought through it because I wanted to be a better man for you, Relena," Heero continued intently, his voice never wavering despite this most intimate confession. She had to stifle a silly smile when he spoke her name in such an intense manner.

 "I kept waiting for this very moment when I could finally see you again and apologize for my wrongdoings," Heero claimed, shifting his hands inside his pockets as though nervous all of a sudden; "I feel that I should make it up to you somehow."

"There's no need to make it up to me, Heero," she told him, feeling that heavy sense of awkwardness again. She had always known him to be direct and earnest, especially with what he felt, but it was quite unsettling to be on the receiving end of such earnestness, more so when considering what he was trying to say.

"There is," he countered her firmly, refusing to take "no" for an answer. "I still owe you that date," he insisted, "One with me, not the booze."

"Heero, you don't owe me anything, really," she tried to object.

"I do," he still maintained. "I owe you more than I could ever repay with one date, but I don't know where else to begin."

She smiled at him impishly, feeling the need to ease the heavy atmosphere with a touch of humor. "I guess that means we'll have to go on more than just one date, then," she teased, but Heero didn't seem amused, taking her offer way too seriously.

"I figured you'd be leaving back to Europe now that the semester is over," he said, frowning at her. Despite how he was making it sound like he was hoping she won't be staying long, she got the feeling that what he was really trying to ask was if she was going to _stay_?

"I don't know," she said, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly. She turned to her right, gazing wistfully at the limited view of Queens' tall buildings towering across the East River.

"I kind of fell in love with the city," she murmured absentmindedly while looking at the Queens borough. She turned to Heero again, smiling dolefully. "I'm thinking about staying while I work on my thesis," she told him. "There's this professor at NYU who's willing to take me under his wing. They also have a fully funded Ph.D. program I've been considering for a while. It has some great placements, so I can continue to work for the UN..."

"You mean you'll be staying?" Heero tried to clarify, almost hopeful. "What about your plans to go back into politics?"

"I'm in no rush," she told him, sighing. "Same old problems are still going to be there tomorrow," she joked sadly; "Besides," she added, "just think about how much harder it'll be to argue with me once I have my doctorate!" She concluded with a playful chuckle, and Heero actually smiled back modestly. There was a kind of spark in his eyes she had never seen before; a light both anticipative and content. Her smile widened at the sight of it. She was doing the right thing, staying.

"Say," she offered, "How about I take you up on that offer now?" She glanced at her wristwatch. "It's almost lunchtime anyway, and I know this great vegetarian place on Seventh Avenue. Some kind of Hebrew name, I think. They serve _falafel_ ," [[2]] she added in a hopeful high-pitched tone, trying to persuade him with some Israeli food in hopes that it will pique his interest.

Heero seemed to appreciate the offer, for he nodded, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly. "Sure, why not?" He agreed. "I'm all about a healthy diet now anyway..." He muttered cynically and she laughed at his endearing self-humor.

They left the UNHQ complex together, speaking casually like a couple of old friends as they made their way down E 42nd Street towards their destination. During the twenty-something minute walk, it didn't take Relena long to decide that she liked this sober and mature version of Heero. He had a very dry and subtle sense of humor, mostly at his own expense, which she enjoyed. She couldn't foresee any reason why she would ever debate whether or not she should pass on anymore dates.

To use a cliché, Heero had her at "hello". She never expected to see him again after that awful Valentine's date, yet there he was – refusing to give up and standing bravely before her, asking for her forgiveness and ready to start anew.

As it turned out, Heero Yuy was still that undeniably strong person she had met years ago, and she was still that girl who was hopelessly devoted to him. And while many other things had changed, for both of them, the most important part hadn't: she would still go to the ends of the Earth for him, as long as he was willing to fight.

 

_The End._

 

[1]  Not that it matters, but [Marvel's Jessica Jones](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt2357547/) lived on 485 West 46th Street...

[2] That would be [Maoz Vegetarian](http://www.maozusa.com/) on 558 7th Ave., Manhattan – just in case you're in the area and looking to grab a healthy bite to eat. Of course, you could always go to Queens and check out the Golden Mall underground food court… ^_~ Oh, and yes – I am fully aware that these places should no longer exist in the AC era, but I don't care. My story, my rules. :-P

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's Note II:**
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> So there you have it: my first purely 1xR fic. I was pretty nervous about posting this. It occurred to me as I wrote this story that the reason I avoided writing 1xR until now was because I feared I would be sinning with some kind of a self-insert character when I wrote Relena (which is kind of sexist when I think about it – why, because we're both girls?!). There is a LOT of me in this story, I confess, but it's both in Heero and in Relena. This story is more or less a mash-up of personal experiences (be thankful I spared you a scene where Relena watches Heero relieve his bladder out on the street before puking his guts out into the same puddle...), but please don't jump into any conclusions. It's all water under the bridge now.
> 
> Anyway, I hope I managed to do a decent job with this story, especially with Relena's character. I admit I haven't read a lot of 1xR or Relena-centric fics, so I approached this story more or less tabula rasa. I would love to hear your thoughts on the matter, if you're willing to share any Relena headcanon. It would be nice to get to know her better, for future reference. I'm considering writing a sequel to this fic, because I do have more of this story to tell. I just need the motivation, I guess.
> 
> As always, your reviews will be most appreciated. Some days, they're the only thing that makes me smile, so please don't be a stranger and drop me a note. It would make my day to know someone out there has read this, maybe even enjoyed it?
> 
> Best,  
> Elle


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